Tease: Mojave Boys MC (4 page)

Vance looked around at the small gathering. These were the long term pledge members of the club, the ones who had really brought them into profit. Before, they’d been little more than a gang of unruly hoodlums, making petty money on small jobs. Still, though, the charter members sometimes overestimated their ability to maintain their hold on their territory. Like it or not, it was just as much about politics as it was about firepower and balls.

He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m with Burt. It’s dangerous, but it shows we’re not going to take shit from a bunch of Scorpions who want to play games. As for retaliation, we’ll have to beef up security, watch the borders more carefully. We’ll also have to be more careful on delivery runs.”

“Kay’s going to shit bricks if I tell her we got Scorpions dogging us everywhere we go,” Tic-Toc groaned. He was one of the few men at this table who had never been disloyal to his old lady. They’d been married for nearly twenty years, and aside from a random distant appreciation for some eye candy, the man was a saint. Vance had to admire that, even if it wasn’t a position he wanted to be in.

Cougar chuckled derisively. “You are so whipped, Tic. Kay should know better than to give you grief. You know what your problem is? You’ve never put her in her place.”

Tic-Toc glared at him. “She knows her place, wise ass. It’s at my side, and it’s with our kids, and it’s worrying about whether or not Daddy’s coming home to them.”

“Not in the MC, it’s not,” Cougar argued. “Your old lady’s place is at home, holding down the domestic front and staying out of club business. You don’t have to tell her shit, Tic. She’s not a member. None of the chicks around here, old ladies or not, should give us grief about how we take care of our own.”

His tone was vicious, and while Vance didn’t think any of the old ladies should tell them what to do, he didn’t like Cougar’s chauvinist attitude. He stood and gave Cougar a warning look. “We have a rule here, bud. Don’t disrespect anyone’s old lady, regardless of your personal opinion.” He looked at Tic-Toc, who was ready to come out of his seat. The man was so tightly wound he was ready to burst like a time bomb…hence the nickname. “Cool down, Tic. I’ll help you talk to Kay. But this is how it has to be.”

Burt stepped in, as well. “Maybe we’ll send Kay and the kids to her parents’ house for a week or so until we get this resolved. She’ll feel safer there, won’t she?”

Tic nodded, but Vance could read his unspoken protest. Even if Kay and the kids were safe, she’d worry about Tic the whole time and be on edge without him. “We’ll figure it out,” Vance said, giving Burt a look that told him they needed to end this conversation and move on. They would circle back around on the matter in private.

The rest of the meeting focused on putting together the crews that would make the runs. A messenger would ride out to the Scorpions’ encampment, twenty miles south of Wheelie, and deliver the offer. The rival club wouldn’t waste time setting up a meeting, and the Mojave Boys would ride out to the blockade, twelve strong. Vance would be at the head of that group while Burt held down the fort in case the shady gang came in to launch an attack while several of their key members were away.

With a goal of riding out and destroying the blockade within two days, the meeting broke up, and Vance couldn’t have been more relieved. He needed a drink to calm his nerves. He’d spent most of the club meeting thinking about a completely different meeting tonight. He couldn’t get Maya off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. She was like poison in his veins, eating away at him little by little.

Even a shot of whiskey couldn’t douse the burning in his blood, and he went out to the back of the bar, entering the shop where several of the guys were working on bikes. He approached Lefty, who had his nose halfway into a gas tank and grease up to his elbows. “Are you replacing the fuel sensor?” he asked, not really caring what his old friend was doing but needing to strike up a conversation that didn’t revolve around women or sex.

Lefty glanced up at him and went back to work. “The gas cap won’t catch because the hole is stripped, so I’m trying to pop it loose and replace it. The damn thing isn’t cooperating.” He stood up and wiped sweat from his brow with a rag he’d apparently used on oil, leaving a black streak across his forehead. “I’m taking a break and grabbing some fries at the diner. You wanna come?”

Vance shook his head and laughed. “You better wash up first, or Linda won’t serve you. I doubt she’ll let you in the front door looking like that.” Taking a deep breath and realizing that he wouldn’t get much in the way of a distraction here, he told Lefty, “I’m going to roll my girl in here and check all her vitals. You mind if I use your space?”

“Have at it. I can work in tight spaces anyway, so no rush.” He wiped his hands and headed for the bathroom, hopefully to scrub up a little, and Vance gazed at the bike. It was Marshall’s, and Marshall was out of town. Lefty wasn’t in any hurry, but he wasn’t lying. Lefty was on the far end of fifty and had been working on these machines since he was an adolescent with his father and uncle. He could work on a bike in a four-by-four cell, if he had to.

Vance glanced out to where he’d parked and headed over to grab his bike. It never hurt to be prepared, and he didn’t want to get caught in a gunfight with a bike that wasn’t running in top condition.

CHAPTER FIVE

The sun had just started to slip low on the horizon as Maya padded around the motel room in her birthday suit, having showered but not quite ready to dress. She pulled back a corner of the curtains to watch the colors bleed over the edge of the earth and smiled. You didn’t get sunsets this beautiful in the city, no matter what time of year or which city you were in.

Wheelie seemed to be full of surprises. She’d eaten the most delicious fresh salad for lunch at the diner, and when she asked where they got the vegetables for it, the owner—Linda—had told her they were brought in daily from a greenhouse about twenty or so miles away. All Maya could think was that it had to be a pretty big greenhouse, considering every biker and whatever family he had seemed to eat here on a regular basis. Linda also assured her the same fresh produce was available at the only market in town, which she hadn’t yet visited.

The scenery, despite being a desert area, was beautiful. The sand and rock in the distance seemed to sparkle in the sunlight and cast rainbow colors in the air. And now, Maya could watch one of the most gorgeous dusks she’d ever witnessed.

And all of that came on top of having met Vance.

He was such a mystery. Maya could catch glimpses of who he was inside by some of the things he said, or the way he moved at times. But he put up a wall that kept her—and likely anyone else—from digging too deep. She wanted to know everything about his past. It had to be tragic, or he wouldn’t be so adamant about his loyalty to his tribe of biker brothers.

Reluctantly, she’d called her mother before she’d showered. The conversation went much as expected, and Maya had done her best to field the twenty questions her mother threw at her. “I thought you were in Los Angeles.”

“I’m on my way there,” Maya had told her. “I decided to drive, and I’m staying at a motel tonight.”

“A
motel
?” her mother replied with disgust. “Where exactly are you?”

Maya didn’t want to tell her the sordid details. “It’s a small town, Mom. And besides, I don’t need five-star accommodations every night. I just need a bed and four walls with a ceiling.”

“There’s no telling what sort of people stayed there before you, or how well it was cleaned,” her mother argued. Maya couldn’t remember when her mother had become more of a Prima Donna than she was.

And Maya had a pretty good idea that the Mojave Boys wouldn’t tolerate laziness when it came to the businesses in Wheelie being clean and proper. “It’s not some seedy pay by the hour place, Mom. My standards are higher than that.”

“Whatever.” Her mother sighed. “Are you eating well? Staying on your diet?”

Maya had pursed her lips. “I’m eating the same way I always do. You act like I’m trying to lose weight or something. I eat to maintain my appearance and keep my metabolism in line.” Turning the tables, she’d asked, “What about you, Mom? Weren’t you on some cleansing diet?”

There had been a distinct silence. “My doctor thinks taking those pills is counterproductive. But I did lose two pounds last week.” The way she said it, with a defiant but self-conscious tone, told Maya her mother had probably put on three pounds this week.

It didn’t matter; her mother was in great shape for her age, and Maya would have loved her if she was as big around as she was tall. But she hated the hypocritical nature of her mother’s questioning. “Do you have a guard with you? Or a nice young man?”

“No, Mom, I don’t need a guard when I’m driving, and I’m not reliant on some guy. I’m not dating anyone, and I’m not interested in getting married.”
I did sleep with a gorgeous, dangerous man, though, with leather and a motorcycle and lots of tattoos. How’s that for realizing your dreams for me, Mom?
She wanted to say it so badly but knew better. They were barely avoiding a fight as it was.

Her mother said, “You only think you don’t want a husband because you haven’t met the right one yet. You’ll change your mind eventually. But you have to get out and date to find the man for you.”

How could she make her mother understand she didn’t want to date or find a man? It wasn’t like the older woman had set such a good example for Maya. Sighing, she shook her head and told her mother, “I’m hungry and need to eat. I’m going over to the nice little diner down the street. I love you, Mom, and I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up, wondering if Christmas counted as soon enough.

Her mother never ceased to raise her hackles, and taking a deep breath, Maya turned to her suitcase, deciding she needed to get ready or she would be unfashionably late. She chose a light pink babydoll t-shirt paired with another pair of tight jeans. She tied her hair back with a band, and she added her sneakers, wishing she had a pair of boots instead. However, it was too warm, especially in LA, to wear boots under most circumstances.

Because she knew the temperature would drop once the sun went down, she grabbed the jean jacket and threw it on the bed beside her keys and pocketbook. She’d probably toss her ID and the necessary cards in her pocket so she didn’t have to carry a purse or anything. It would cramp her style, and it would just be an extra burden anyway.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, Maya debated whether or not she was going to put on makeup. She was still young enough and used enough creams and facial scrubs to rock the fresh face look, but she’d grown accustomed to her appearance in makeup, whether light or heavy. She sighed and decided a minimal effort would be best, so she coated her lashes with a layer of mascara to make her eyes stand out more, and she added a light pink gloss that gave her lips the wet look.

She smiled now, satisfied, and checked the time. She was a little ahead of schedule, which meant she could stroll over to the Wheelie Bar rather than firing up the convertible for no reason. The UV rays were already gone for the day, and with the sun nearing the end of its cycle, the breeze had picked up. It would be a pleasant walk.

And if she went home with Vance again, she wouldn’t have to delay the pleasure by driving it back to the motel.

Maya had to admit, she wondered what Vance would be like if he hadn’t locked himself down in the desert with a biker gang. He was obviously intelligent, and she was sure he could have been very successful in the professional world. But there was a ruggedness about him that might have made him restless living in the suburbs. Would he have eventually sought out trouble anyway, or would he have settled for other adventures, like hiking and roughing it in the mountains?

She couldn’t see him as a doctor, but he had the potential to argue someone to death and debate manipulatively. He would have made a great prosecutor or, if he wanted to dabble in the criminal element, a stellar defense attorney. And if he wasn’t interested in something that required so much education and discipline, he would have had any number of options. He could have run a business. It seemed he practically did that here anyway. Or he could have been a teacher or coach. High school kids loved offbeat teachers with tattoos and an alternative teaching method.

Hell, he could have been a model! He still could, in certain elements, and if she could snap a picture of him at some point, Maya wanted to take it back to her agent and see if they couldn’t set something up with one of the biker magazines. They could always use a false name for him or not credit him at all, if Vance wanted to steer clear of being noticed.

All of these things might have been preferable to Maya had she been looking for a long-term relationship. How difficult would it be as someone so easily recognized to be with an outlaw who lived in the middle of a vast desert and probably held a degree of notoriety among motorcycle clubs and other illegal organizations across the country? It just wasn’t realistic.

But for Maya’s purposes at this time, she preferred the rough and tumble outlaw. It was like some fantasy coming to life, and she could live it out for a short time and then put it behind her as a fond memory as she moved on with her life and career. She would settle down some day, but this fling with Vance satisfied all of her baser needs for the time being.

She reached the bar and noted that there were far fewer bikes outside than there had been the night before. In fact, as she opened the door, she saw the place was practically empty. Joe was behind the bar again, and there were perhaps ten or twelve guys. Four of them were playing pool, and a few more sat around drinking and talking. The noise level was much lower and the laughter subdued. She wanted to throw out a joke like,
Who died?
, but she knew that it was entirely possible someone had in their line of business.

And then she chided herself. She didn’t know what the Mojave Boys actually did, and she was making unfair assumptions. For all she knew, they had a 501c3 and raised money for the homeless or underprivileged children. She doubted it, but she had to give the benefit of the doubt. After all, she hadn’t really met any of them aside from Vance, with the exception of Joe, who had a bad attitude and was nosy. But that didn’t mean he struck her as a hardened criminal or a violent man. To the contrary, he actually seemed fairly passive.

She sat at the same barstool to wait for Vance. She was about five minutes early, and Joe walked over with a reluctant smile. “Back again? I didn’t scare you away with my grouchiness?”

She shook her head and smiled back. “On the contrary. You give the place character. And you pour a good whiskey sour. I’ll take one now, if you don’t mind.”

“No shot tonight?” Joe asked tauntingly.

Maya didn’t take the bait. “Not tonight, Joe. I wouldn’t want to make the mistake of drinking too much on an empty stomach and end up accidentally proving your point about not being able to handle my liquor.”

Joe actually laughed, and Maya stared at him as he poured her drink. Maybe he wasn’t so miserable. Maya had a sneaking suspicion the guy just put up a front. Maybe he was a little disgruntled and lonely, but he wasn’t the asshole he pretended to be.

He came back with two drinks, and Maya started to protest, but as she opened her mouth, Vance slid smoothly onto the stool next to her, a salacious grin on his face that liquefied her entire body. She could have slid right out of her seat in that moment as he eyed her with unabashed hunger. “I had this terrible feeling you might try to stand me up, and I checked all the fluids in my ride to make sure I could come after you if you left town.”

That should have sounded like a threat, but it only aroused Maya more. It was a compliment, a sign that Vance had really looked forward to this and hadn’t just decided he needed another roll in the hay. Sure, the sex was incredible, but Maya had looked forward to this part of the evening as much as the physical intimacy she craved. “I’m glad to see you, too, Mr. Biker. With the large crowd gathered here tonight,” she said with bitter sarcasm, “I thought something bad might have happened and you’d be tied up elsewhere. Perhaps literally.”

He chuckled. “Some of the guys are out of town on business. I never have been and never will be tied up without permission. You, on the other hand…” He trailed off, leaving the rest to her imagination. Maya certainly knew how to fill in the blank, and it had her shifting in her seat as her desire grew. Abruptly, he changed the subject. “So, have you decided how long you’re staying in our charming little town?”

Maya hesitated, trying to decide how to answer that question. This was far more enjoyable than she’d imagined, and she could see herself having friendly—and teasing—conversation with Vance for several evenings. At the same time, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome, and she didn’t want to give the impression that she was eager for an extended emotional connection. It was purely sexual, with a little friendly companionship thrown in on the side.

“Depending on how I feel in the morning, I’ll probably stay at least one more night.” She wanted to gauge his reaction to that and see if she could draw him out of his shell so she could make an informed decision.

He sipped his drink, obviously delaying his own reply. He truly was a difficult one, and Maya liked the challenge. She hoped she presented as much intrigue and entertainment for Vance. Finally, he told her, “I bet you’ll feel pretty relaxed in the morning. Wheelie tends to give people a bit of a rest from the daily grind. And in some cases, it satisfies some more personal needs.”

And there it was again. If he kept dropping double entendre, Maya was going to soak her drawers before they ever left the bar. “I’ve found it to be…therapeutic so far.” She would toss them right back and have him chomping at the bit to get in her pants, and maybe, he’d slow it down a little.